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HYLETHEN AND OTHER POEMS 



Hylethen 

and 

Other Poems 

By 

Isaac Flagg 



BOSTON 

The Stratford Company 
1919 






Copyright 1919 

The STRATFORD CO., Publishers 

Boston, Mass. 



The Alpine Press, Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 



ICI.A5 15493 ii,/ 

1^\ 



f \ 



\m i2ibiy 



Contents 

PAGE 

Hylethen, a Lyeical Missive^ 1896 . 1 

Aftee Egypt, 1902 . . . .37 

The Stae-Gazee, 1906 .... 47 

The Isle of Ciece, 1907 ... 61 

Ulysses' Convoy 77 

(After Homer's Odyssey, Book Thirteen, 
at the beginning, 1917) 

Agamemnon's Ruth . . . .89 
(Opening scene of Euripides' Iphigenia 
at Aulis, 1898) 

Temple Song 95 

(From the Ion of Euripides, 1888) 

Wings Teiumphant .... 103 

(Programme for Scenes from the Birds 
of Aristophanes, presented in Greek by 
students of the University of California 
at the dedication of the Greek Theatre, 
Berkeley, 1903) 

Ave Piscatoe Ill 

(Reception to Dr. Henry Van Dyke by 
the Faculty Club, Berkeley, 1905) 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Pbologue and Epilogue . . . 116 

(Written for Congreve's comedy Love for 
Love, presented by students of the Uni- 
versity of California, 1896) 

Choeal Song 119 

(First song and dance in Hesperides, 1916) 

SCYROS 121 

(First song of the chorus in Achilles in 
Scyros, 1917) 

Nephte's Song 122 

(From the Third Act of The Sons of 
Jacob, 1912) 

Hymn 123 

(Closing hymn in The Sons of Jacob) 

The Athenian's Vision . . . 127 

(Prologue to Greek Sacrificial Procession 
at the opening exercises of the California 
State Farmer's Institute in the Greek 
Theatre, 1904) 

Greeting 135 

(Programme for the Eumenides of Aeschy- 
lus, presented in Greek by students of the 
University of California in the Greek 
Theatre, 1907) 

Symposium Metricum, 1878 . . 139 



VI 



Hylethen 

A LYRICAL MISSIVE 



Scheme 

PAOES 

PROLOGUE 1-4 

PAEAN 5-9 

STEPHANE 10-23 

STEMMA 24-31 

EPILOGUE . . . .32,33 



To 

H. H. C. 

From the Forest, when we speak, 
Sounds Hylethen in the Greek; 

But the promptings fine, 
That upon the soul (we know) 
From the forest subtly flow. 

No ancient might divine. 



Hylethen 



4 LL too swiftly to its end 
r\ That soft summer eve, sweet friend, 

Sank behind us. We, 
Half round in our saddles turn'd, 
Where its dying splendors burn'd. 

Gazed regretfully; 
Half, adown the hedge-crown 'd hill. 
Wistful, would press forward still — 

But a warning star 
Glimmer 'd in the deepening blue; 
Quench 'd the changeful flush, that threw, 

Feebly mirror 'd, far 
Backward its faint borrow 'd glow. 
Then we, silently and slow. 

Took our backward way. 
Toward night-woven leaf and limb, 
Broider'd on the pale gold rim 

Of the vanish 'd day. 
Through moist fragrant air, we rode. 
On the bridle-hand, now, flow'd 

The dim-spreading stream; 
Stole now, gently voiceful, o'er 
Our grave silence. But, before. 

When, in a sunny dream 

[1] 



HYLETHEN 

Of young pleasure, we sprang forth, 
Spurning the firm rain-wash 'd earth 

Under iron-shod feet; 
Then, our mutual voices drown 'd 
That low lakeward-murmuring sound. 

Then, the briar-rose sweet 
Beckon 'd, with her winsome smile, 
(Hid her treacherous thorn the while) ; 

And the green roadway. 
Each new darkling turn it took, 
Show'd of fairy-land a nook 

Wreathed in forest spray — 
Tempting, part sun-pierced, part gloom. 
Each emerging height we clomb. 

Whence anew the fair 
Afternoon horizon crept 
(From the distance where it slept) 

O'er the vision, there, 
On its drowsy quivering line, 
Cloud-indented, seem'd to shine 

Spire and citadel 
Of some blissful region, blent 
In hues of eld and orient. — 



[2] 



HYLETHEN 

Thus, till night dews fell 
And the star its warning sped, 
We, dear friend, unwearied 

In sweet colloquy; 
As the day, serene; its mood 
Strong, our fancy to delude; 

Would the thought put by 
Of the parting that impended, 
Of all, that with that last eve ended 



[3] 



HYLETHEN 

Not by the sunlit hour 
Be my farewell spoken! 

Not, when on brake and bower 
Day beams unbroken! 

Not with the throstle 's glee ; 

Not, while the brown wild-bee 
In honey 'd ecstasy 

Probes the unfolded flower! 

But, when the lull'd redbreast 

No more his serenading 
Pipes to the crimson west, 

Fast in sable fading; 
After the pale primrose, 
Her chalice fain to close. 
Slumbers in chaste repose; 

And the night wind, sighing 
Like a wandering spirit lone. 
In plaintive undertone 

To leafy tongues replying 
Some troubled tale would tell. 
Then would I say farewell — 

All its implying. 
With weird re-whisper 'd spell : 
Farewell — Farewell. 



[4] 



HYLETHEN 



BLEST be the years! — that, reaper-like, 
sure-bladed, 
Do store and make, the while they seem to 
mar; 
Veil'd messengers, whose tones, all sorrow- 
shaded. 
Yet, to console, divinely potent are. 

Low-shorn the field, wilted the tassel'd flower, 
Spill 'd the once brimming crystal vase may 
lie: 
But life and loss, time-wedded, hold their 
dower 
Of balm that heals, of beams that sanctify. 

Soonest for him, who, of all breath and being, 
Of all-in-all, but feels himself a part; 

A.nd, from frail transient ties his pulses freeing, 
Lies closest to the universal heart. 

His, to inform, to inspire, a view outvying 
The warm life-vision of the proud Hellene : 

Not, with pure-human eye, self-deifying. 
Nature through man, but man through 
nature seen. 

[5] 



HYLETHEN 

Cull we, from groves sublime, a rarer guerdon 
Than on his brow the palm-crown 'd ancient 
wore; 

Chanting, with fuller heart, a deeper burden — 
To find in man not less, in nature more. 

As of a wider wisdom chasten 'd, humbly. 
Yet with more ample and profounder voice, 

To swell no hamlet-hymn 'd io triumphe, 
But, to the nations, Xaigete, rejoice! 

Rejoice to live, each spirit-sharing creature; 

Make green the waste of intellect jejune; 
Reflect Earth's every life-illumined feature; 

To her pure symphony your chords attune. 

So, with well-measuring hand, some compen- 
sation 
For that she takes shall Nature give again : 
Prom the drain 'd chalice conjure reparation. 
As looms the sun-limn 'd Iris through the 
rain. 

Who knows, when finding earliest forbidden 
That which is sorest craved, what recom- 
pense 
May for the sear'd white-calcined flesh be 
hidden 
In the fell furnace of experience? 

[6] 



HYLETHEN 

Answer the wind-swept seed, by millions 
wasted, 
To save one tender germ-uplifting leaf; 
The brief -lived fly ; the myriad fruits untasted ; 
The stalk flung to the fire, the garner 'd 
sheaf. 



There is no loss. The gentle child, untimely 
Snatch 'd from sweet mirth, all spotless, to 
the tomb. 
Itself wept not ; the claims it touch 'd sublimely 
Of those that stay or follow. So, from that 
gloom, 

For us, through storms of selfish thought com- 
bated. 
Shines a redeeming light, unseen before: 
It, to the sun-ascending pile hath added 
Of Peace, the many-mansion 'd, one stone 
more. 



On the slow way, where many a shadow hovers. 
Darkening, deluding, deem him happy thrice 

To whom, full soon, some heaven-sent hand dis- 
covers 
The late-learn'd benison of sacrifice. 



[7] 



HYLETHEN 

The woman to the man. Endued more gently; 

Younger in years, yet surer of their worth ; 
Whose firm maieutic touch beneficently 

Guides the clogg'd spirit to its fairer birth. 



Thus, the life-realm through, opposites in- 
wreathing. 
Then first springs an ensphered and perfect 
whole. 
When the sublime succumbs, intense and 
seething, 
To the calm beautiful, its antipole. 



Ay, beautiful and faithful! Not with reasons, 
Weigh 'd in cold thought: but with high 
hopes, that lead 
By beacon flames, straight-tending, as the 
seasons, 
One to another, immutable, succeed. 



So, summer-wing 'd, to me, as, love-led, follow 
(Truest of friends), sure-pinion 'd, to their 
homes 
Dove mothers, or the zephyr-mated swallow 
Speeds to his clime, your fond true greeting 
comes. 



[8] 



HYLETHEN 

A tress of fern, mid mindful words enfolded; 

Pendants of unf orgotten columbine : 
Frail earthly types, by loving fingers moulded 

To emblems of a constancy divine. 

Now, therefore, in due turn, while yet un- 
broken 
Hangs the link'd heart-chain these mute years 
along, 
Let this unprison'd voice their wealth be- 
token — 
My late thank-offering of sincerest song. 

That, on a dream-sown, motley life-path weav- 
ing, 

I send you, like some dark-leaved coronal, 
Starr 'd with pale blossoms. Even so believing. 

Read mingled requiem and madrigal. 



[9] 



HYLETHEN 



Ay, think anon 
Of wreathed-laid tables at a bridal feast, 
Under soft-glowing lamps: with smilax wind- 
ing 
Its waxen tracery hither and thither, between 
Wine-cup and silver flagon ; fruits heap 'd high 
In mellow pyramids; and many a vase 
Clasping white lilies, or, with fresh-clipt stem, 
Roses, deep-hued, that cannot choose but pour 
Their rich defloured fragrance on the warm 
Silk-shaded air. Forth are the banqueters, 
Refresh 'd, in gay dance-measures to renew 
The night-sped revelry. But a fair young 

guest, 
Lingering by chance there thoughtfully alone, 
Would from the relinquish 'd board lift a green 

spray 
And pin to her bosom — when, through the 

corridors, 
Fine strains of dulcet strings came stealing, 

and touch 'd 
A vibrant chord in her pure heart. Spell- 
bound 
By that sweet marriage-music, thrill'd siie 

stood, 
With parted lips, one hand uplifted; and her 
eyes 

[10] 



HYLETHEN 

Seem'd not to see what met them, but through 

all, 
In dreamy thought, to gaze toward some far 

land, 
Unvisited, unknown. — Her then the poet 
Marked, himself, too, midway tarrying, where 
By the half-open door her white robe shone; 
And, in his fancy, above the mirthful crowd 
Soaring apart, with swift words did essay 
To paint her reverie. 



Ill 



HYLETHEN 

[ look'd on a brimming fountain, 
With its waters upwelling for aye: 

They were black in the shadow^ of even; 
They were bright in the lustre of day. 

Not a flower by its margent mirror 'd, 

But with fairest petal smiled ; 
Not a bird 'neath the verdure, but warbled 

His fondest carol wild. 

Each wind to his silent hollow 

Had sped, with a murmur low ; 
While the wrinkled hill-tops glimmer 'd 

In the sleepy noonday glow. 

A maiden knelt, with a ewer, 

From the limpid source to fill, 
And its depths they were strong to woo her. 

That she gazed with a transport still. 

From the thirsty forest-mazes 

A chase-worn huntsman came; 
But drank not — for the spell beguiled him. 

Of a rapture he could not name. 

And they seem'd to wait and to wonder 
If their vision should vanish away, 

As I look'd on the brimming fountain. 
With its waters upwelling for aye. 

[12] 



HYLETHEN 

In such words did the poet 
Portray the vision of the fair young guest — 
Her vision and his own. For, from that hour, 
Round her bright image his warm fancy moved, 
As moves Orion round the Cynosure. 
Not of the earth she seem'd: so radiant 
Was her clear forehead; such ethereal glory 
Streamed from the sunny halo of her hair. 
Yet in her nature fain would he discern 
Much, to his own congenial. Not, indeed, 
The questioning intellect ; but a kindred soul, 
Thrilling with pure emotions. Framed for love ; 
Love tender, deep, and inexhaustible 
As a perennial rivulet, that hides 
Its source from the long sultry plains it waters, 
In the cool shadow of eternal hills. 
This the years show'd him. Now, he but 

divined 
Its subtile sympathies; and, by their breath 
Inspired, in fervent choriambs gave voice 
To his exalted mood. 



[13] 



HYLETHBN 

Child of the skies, 
Maid, — as thou art; 

Star of mine eyes, 
Heaven of my heart : 

Draw thou but near, 

All, all is light ! 
But disappear, — 

Lo, it is night! 

Day binds a gem 
Over Night's brow 

(My diadem. 
Beauty, art thou) ; 

And, when he hides 
Love's sign away, 

Twilight abides, 
Saved of its ray. 

So come thy smile 
Oft, as my dawn: 

Light me the while 

Thoughts of thee gone. 

Star of mine eyes, 
Heaven of my heart : 

Fair as the skies, 
Maiden, thou art. 

[14] 



HYLETHEN 

Celestial forms 
Did to their mortal worshipers, of old, 
Descend. As when, to Latmos' stilly slopes, 
The pale moon-goddess, from her heavenly home. 
En waves of rippling phosphor glided down 
And kiss'd Endymion's slumber-shaded cheek. 
With us abide, not differently (though them- 
selves 
Unknowing, and unknown, the while they 

stay), 
Spirits of light, sometime, along this wayfare, 
That in abysmal mystery began. 
And tends we know not whither. But, anon, 
Their gracious mission once fulfill'd, they must 
Return, to prove that they were lent, not given. 
Thus was the poet taught (what he, ofttimes, 
As of mere human texture, would forget), 
When helpless on the farther verge he stood. — 
Not till long after could he pen the scene, 
That they might read and profit by its lore 
Who need the lesson. 



[15] 



HYLETHEN 

Watch and wait, with bated breath ; 
'T is the border-land of death. 

See, upon her upturn 'd eyes 

A strange outward dimness lies; 

For, within they seek a light 
Hidden from our grosser sight. 

Our hush'd voices she hears not: 
Kapt is all her spirit-thought, 

Harkening, how it may respond 
To the summons from beyond. 

! if in other spheres there be 
A supernal harmony, 

Breathed to hovering souls, that list 
Under skies of amethyst, 

She but aspires now to turn 
The terrestrial sojourn 

Into something of the same 

As with her life earthward came. — 

Yes, the trembling breath has past: 
That faint-drawn sigh was the last. — 

[16] 



HYLETHEN 

Such release kind Nature brings 
When the sun-born insect springs 

To new, bright-wing 'd fields of bliss, 
Fluttering from the chrysalis. 

But, as in the wreathed sea-shell 
A far echo seems to dwell. 

Of some solemn wave-lapt shore. 
Caught and held for evermore, 

So I know that I shall hear 
That sigh, in my mindful ear, 

Till I, too, am call'd to stand 
On the mystic border-land. 



[17] 



HYLETHEN 

First in after years, 
When the long arrow-flight of time had 

spann'd 
The middle distance, found he a new strength, 
The warning of those moments to record. 
For then, when freshly that slight form was 

laid, 
To share the slumbers of the silent dead. 
Under chill snow not whiter than her face, 
Rose, mingled with the vacant agony 
And pang of absence, a strange fear, lest he 
Had not done well his part ; not at each time 
Touch 'd the right chord. No thoughts, no 

phantasies 
Came at behest: but uninvoked, unbidden, 
Sang the death-minstrel, with infernal choir, 
Shrilling, as wolves howl by the wintry edge 
Of Ural wildernesses. — 'T were enough 
To bide, firm-lipp'd, till the fell pack, out- 
wearied. 
Slink into silence. — Comes the gray dawn first, 
Haunted by lingering voices of the night; 
Then, through its vapors, one warm beam, that 

wakes 
Old memories and new purpose. 



[18] 



HYLETHEN 

Methought I stood by a mountain grand, 
And the sea crept up to its flinty strand, 

[ heard no sound in that region lone 

But the waves and their weary monotone. 

The mountain moved, as it were in sleep, 
And stirr'd the waters of all the deep; 

And a surge swang mightily to and fro, 
And now rose louder, and now sank low. 

Then floated the ringing tones between 
Of a lyre, swept by a hand unseen. 

Sweet and solemn they seem'd to glide 
Prom caverns dark in the mountain-side. 

Till the billows ceased to beat at the shore, 
And wearily murmur 'd the waves, as before. 

But long in my ear an echo rang 
Of the throe, and the surge, and the lyre's 
clang. 



[19] 



HYLETHEN 

Immortal poesy! 
The music of life's morning — when the child 

seer 
Stands by the shore, clear-eyed; and, gazing 

toward 
The sun-fed sources of his being, hearkens 
To faint Aeolian melodies, that float 
Over green waters from the gates of pearl. 
All-searching language of the soul; to all 
Tongues common; from all bosoms breathed, 

that nigh 
To the wellsprings of mystery have lain, 
Nilus, Dodona, or Gethsemane. 
Utter 'd, not to the sense-bound hearing, but. 
Through avenues of the spirit, to that ear 
Which, like the hermit's door, welcomes, un- 

barr'd, 
Herald or foot-worn pilgrim or scarr'd slave. 
What else but the weird star-link 'd talisman 
Of charity and beauty, heaven-born song, 
Threading this clogg'd and travail-crusted so- 
journ 
Prom youth to age, as veins of purest gold 
Thread the black earth, enloeks the charmed ring 
Of many-hued experience — till the man, 
[n all simplicity and meekness, stands 
Where stood the child: over still waters hear- 
ing 
The zephyr-wafted curfew-tones of peace; 

[20] 



HYLETHEN 

Seeing, direct, near, and immediate. 
That truth which labor 'd learning only hides. 
There, now once more, the slumbrous images 
Of past and future, in one mirror merged. 
On fancy's argent stream roll by. 
Delighting, not deluding. 



[21] 



HYLETHEN 

Out in the wild, witching forest 

Lone and uncumber'd to lie, 
Stretch 'd where the pines that are tallest 

Stem the blue tide of the sky. 

Fragrances rare, terebinthine. 

Float o'er the cone-sprinkled sward, 

Far through the vague labyrinthine 
Mazes of memory pour'd. 

Only the loon's ghostly laughter 

Breaks from the forest-bound mere : 

Chimes of some mystic hereafter. 
Borne on the spell-haunted ear. 

Wraiths of yon fathomless azure. 
Cloud-rack to cloud-castle rear'd, 

Bid these fond fancies soar, as your 
Shapes evanescent and weird. 

There, where the pine-tops are sailing, 
Black-fringed, ethereal; hung 

Mid fleecy filaments, veiling 
Elfin forms, phantasy-sprung — 

There, what bright visage, benignly 
Sad, on my rapt vision beams? 

Soul to soul, upborne divinely 
Into the cloud-world of dreams ! 

[22] 



HYLETHEN 

What though with day-dream be blended 
Bliss quench 'd in night long ago, 

If, till the reverie 's ended, 
Blithely the dream-measures flow! 

Lone, without comrade to cumber, 

In the wild forest to lie, 
Where tall pines, tempting to slumber. 

Stem the blue tide of the sky. 



[23] 



HYLETHEN 



TAKE, then, dear friend, your crown — 
word-woven : not 
Like Ariadna's, in the firmament 
Of spacious heaven with starry gems en- 
wrought ; 
Once to her brow from fervid Orient 
Divinely press 'd: but in plain token sent 
Of kind remembrance, from the fruited 

glades 
Hemming a new, Hesperian continent, 
Rock-ridged; whose morn the snow-clad 
shoulder shades, 
Whose eve o'er azure seas in golden pallor 
fades. 



[24] 



HYLETHEN 

Here, from hill caverns sweeping sands of 

gold, 
Wide flashing streams their westward 

courses wind, 
Profuser than to Lydian kings of old 
The famed Pactolus bore : with margent 

lined 
By fields of bearded grain, whose reapers 

bind 
World-sheaves of plenty; or flowing, now 

between 
Fruit lands of shell or berry or citrus 

kind. 
Or the gray olive; now mid vine-slopes 

seen, 
Hiding pink clusters bathed in leafy rills of 

green. 



[25] 



HYLETHEN 

Full long the unfailing South her genial 

rains 
Pours over dale and upland, to renew, 
For pastured flocks no brumal fold re- 
strains. 
Fresh sustenance the verdant winter 

through ; 
And, for delighted eyes, the varied hue 
Of verdure-mingled bloom — white solo- 

mon-seal, 
Orange of poppy, and faint myrtle -blue: 
Which fanning, through light and shade, 
with sprite-like zeal. 
Their soft invisible way the searching sea-winds 
steal. 



[26] 



HYLETHEN 

Sprite-like below: but, on each, ridgy 

height, 
The foam-born children of the giant West, 
Rushing resistless in untrammel'd might 
Of whistling glee! Down to her sheltered 

nest 
Flees the high-soaring hawk. Their toil- 
some quest 
Eager-eyed hunter and rude muleteer 
Bend breathless down: behind the airy 

crest 
The steep, still trail pursuing, oak-edged — 
near 
Rattle of basking snake and plunge of startled 
deer. 



[27] 



HYLETHEN 

Mutters the black ravine with echoes 

hoarse 
And muffled, where dense-fallen boulders 

meet 
The hurrying stream, that, from its snow^ 

source, 
Descends persistent. Here, with shuffling 

feet. 
From ledge to ledge, moves Bruin, his grim 

retreat 
Wary to cover. Here, the mountain quail 
Chants through the gloom. But one lone 

sunbeam sweet 
Glints on the darting salmon's rainbow 

scale, 
Where strives the crystal tide toward welkin 

and toward vale. 



[28J 



HYLETHEN 

Strives nobly! What scenes for faltering 

pen to trace, 
In that Titanic valley, whose sheer sides 
Drop from mid-heaven to the shadowy 

base 
Of Earth, low-rifted! There the Ice-king 

bides 
His thousand years of slumbering strength, 

and hides 
Under blue sheen the sure footfalls, that 

merge 
In Time's unswerving pathway; whilst his 

guides. 
Colossal peaks, in frowning silence, urge 
The blind obedient waters, over the dizzy 

verge, 



[29] 



HYLETHEN 

To their mad leap ! — Yet is there might to 

save 
That vapory ruin, with all-gathering hand, 
In fresh, redoubled potency to lave 
The temples of a wonder-teeming land. 
Set on its brow, in serrate order grand, 
Linking the present to a buried past 
Of growths primeval, green and ageless, 

stand 
Redwood and huge sequoia. They, the 

last 
Of their majestic kind : and, with them, failing 

fast, 



[30] 



HYLETHEN 

Too many a source of balm. No longer toll 

For holy men (who sought no golden 
fleece, 

But to sow wide their mission of the soul) 

Anthem and angelus — where, in calm re- 
lease 

From fever 'd life, they till'd its rich sur- 
cease. 

Perchance, like theirs, might our free 
fancy stray 

O'er the far-arching ocean, named of 
Peace, 

Past yon white sea-bird rock'd in briny 
spray, 
On the swift wing of thought, to Nippon and 
Cathay. 



[31] 



HYLETHEN 



FANCY free! — So deem the mind, 
That no chains of memory bind 

To some foreland fair 
Of the dim receding shore ; 
That no anchor flings before, 

Caught with gossamer 
To some hope, deep-glimmering through 
Each wave-wrinkled roadstead new. 

Who no melody 
Of enchanted music hears, 
Echoed down the steadying years; 

Nor, of quick-stirr 'd heart, 
Fresh enravishment can feel, 
Let him rove, with veering keel : 

Let him swing apart; 
Drifting on a starless sea, 
Calm-beholden, fancy free. 

And who! — at the cost 
Of a cold and blunted sense; 
In a vague indifference 

To that sadness lost 
Which, by unrelenting laws. 
Every thing of beauty draws 

In its silken train, — 
Who forsooth, would ask reprieve 1 — 

[32] 



HYLETHEN 

Or the mesh of fate unweave — 

Not to stand again 
Near the torrent-laved lake-side, 
Watch the foam-fleck 'd water glide, 

Hear the low refrain 
Murmur 'd by the rumbling fall. 
Feign not I now to recall. 

Through a childish rhyme, 
What, when little children, we 
(Little knowing) thought to see 

In very deed : a clime. 
Where nor face nor flower should fade. 
Nor fount that fed the everglade 

(Save that of tears) run dry; 
Nor loved voices fail, between 
Pale dawn and the opaline 

Of the sunset sky. — 
So, lest sombre strains too long 
Haunt the evening of my song 

With remember 'd spell. 
Sinking softly to its end : 
Therefore, yet again, sweet friend. 

Once again, farewell. 



[33] 



I 



After Egypt 



Nile pater, quanam possim te dicere causa 
Aut quihus in terris occuluisse caput? 



After Egypt 

WHO, from Piraeus sailing, sees 
The circlet of the Cyclades 
Glide fast backward, till they shine 
No more, for him the southward line. 
Drawn where sky and water meet 
Between Carpathos and Crete, 
Points to Egypt. On a day 
Of a bygone century 
Thus from his native Attic shore 
A far-speeding vessel bore 
The good Aristo's son — the same 
Who, through the ages, by the name 
Of Plato should remember 'd be. 
Young, then, and unrenown'd was he. 
Nor himself knowing ; but possest 
By that foreboding and unrest 
Of mystic aspiration bred. 
Wealth and fair ancestry had shed 
On him their lustre; nature brought 
Delight of sense and soaring thought. 
Blent in such visions as inspire 
The poet's fervor and desire. 
Now, with a full, sore-troubled heart. 
Fain would he spurn the seething mart, 

[37] 



AFTER EGYPT 

The civic clamor, the revelry, 
Even the groves, the hills, the sky 
Of haughty Athens. Who were they ! 
Those flippant arbiters of wit 
And song and eloquence, to sit 
In judgment on a life sublime. 
Which, round the peristyle of time, 
Should waken echoes more profound 
Than all their shallow arts could sound. 
Nathless, perforce of their decrees. 
The mortal voice of Socrates 
Was hush'd — though in the charmed ear 
Of each true friend and follower 
Still did its golden accents seem 
To ring, and, like a haunting dream, 
Before each mindful eye the spell 
Of the sad final scene to dwell: 
The cot-bed in the prison, the chain. 
The benign master — and the bane 
Quaff 'd from the deadly chalice. — Now 
On that blithe ship, whose eager prow 
Churn 'd the blue waters, Plato stood. 
Lost in the vague expectant mood 
Of one, whom, for the ends of fate. 
Fresh scenes and trials new await. 

Peaceful and sweet it seem'd, to stand 
In the quaint three-corner 'd land. 
That the seven streams of Nile enfold ; 

[38] 



AFTER EGYPT 

Where the Argive maid, of old, 
lo, poor wanderer from the West, 
Bent her life-weary limbs to rest. 
Sweet was it, when a cooling shade 
The hand of welcome eve had laid 
Over the river's bosom, to lie 
Watching the fretted shore glide by; 
Or some pale lotus-lily's face 
Under the dim starlight to trace. 
Whilst softly the Nile boatmen plied 
Their blades athwart the placid tide. — 
Soon Memphis, and the voiceful throng. 
Swaying its temple courts along. 
Of Apis-worshipers ; and, seen 
Afar, the pyramids, whose mien 
Divinely, to the musing Greek, 
Of space and number seem'd to speak, 
Problems Pythagorean. — Again 
Away, past ibis-haunted fen. 
On, on, still on, by wind and oar, 
Stemming the soft, rich waves, that pour 
Forth from perennial founts unseen 
Sweet freshness o'er the margents green 
'Twixt Araby's purple mountains and 
Brown hills that bar the Libyan sand : 
Up, up the immemorial stream. — 
Now, on its shadowy surface beam 
Gay colonnade and shimmering wall. 
The hundred-gated capital, — 

[39] 



AFTER EGYPT 

And at each gate, to battle-rout, 
Two-hundred chariots sally out, — 
Thebes, ancient seat of warrior kings. 
Here, where colossal Memnon flings 
Weird music on the morning air. 
Teeming with busy life ; but there. 
Toward sunset and the nether gloom. 
Dear to the dwellers of the tomb, 
By their frail caskets tenanted. 
Stretches the City of the Dead, 
Sombre and silent — save what note 
Of lamentation deep might float. 
From mourners' voices wafted. There 
Glides many a funeral bark, to bear. 
Westward and earthward voyaging. 
On the last voyage, the bodies of them 
Whose souls, or must return and strive 
Through more of mortal penance, or live. 
In Osiris merged, the all- 
Blissful existence, all-in-all. 



Nigh to its end the sojourn drew, 
As fast the wondering moments flew, 
Which, by tradition's testament. 
Young Plato in old Egypt spent. 
To-morrow would he set his face 
Northward, and the steps retrace, 
That from known scenes had led him far. 

[40] 



AFTER EGYPT 

To-morrow, with the morning star, 

Cyrene and fair Sicily 

The traveler's cynosure should be; 

Then great Hesperia, and anon 

The harbors of his Attic home. — 

That night, when sleep his lids had seal'd, 

Unto the spirit was reveal 'd 

The vision of a dream. Him thought, 

By throes of anxious quest distraught. 

To wander near the Nubian tract, 

Above the second cataract. 

Where the eternal waters cold 

Down from the Bybline mountains roll'd; 

And there, while thrill'd that region lone 

With an unearthly monotone. 

Forth, in ethereal hues, did gleam, 

As through a halo of his stream, 

The countenance of Father Nile. 

No accident of frown or smile 

Ruffled his features' calm. Nor youth, 

Nor age was mirror 'd there; nor ruth, 

Nor joy, nor sorrow, as of a sense 

Of past or future, lower 'd thence. 

'T was as the Sphinx re-voiced, or note 

Breathed from a midnight Memnon's 

throat. 
When, through the gates of dreams, this 

word, 
Parting those lips sublime, was heard. 

[41] 



AFTER EGYPT 

" Ye search amain, to probe and win 
My secret and my origin. 

' ' Caught in the mesh of time and space, 
Ye pass me, and see not my face. 

" To phantom shapes ye cleave, that range 
Along the rifts of chance and change. 

'' Ye feign, the signs to comprehend 
Of a beginning and an end. 

" Know, that each drop of crystal dew, 
Which, to its mission born anew 

" And from inept admixture freed, 
My farthest fountains helps to feed, 

' ' The same once mantled in the grape, 
Or swell'd the millet or the rape, 

*' Or clove the Delta, and, wave-tost, 
In gray infinitude was lost. 



[42] 



AFTER EGYPT 

*' Son of unworthy Athens, lo, 

Thus, darkly, to thy thoughts I show 

" What mysteries through thee, in turn. 
Men of the Western world shall learn, 

' ' When, in thy magic name, they pledge 
The wise soul's heavenly privilege, 

" Turning from that which seems to be. 
The fleeting show, the vanity, 

'' To penetrate, clear-eyed, beneath 
These cerements of life and death, 

'' And the ideal truth compel 
From its gross perishable shell." 



[43] 



The Star-Gazer 



Tu ne quaesieris (scire nefas) quern mihi, quern 

tibi 
Finem di dederint. 



The Star-Gazer 

MARK yon pale segment of the sky 
Where glows Aldebaran, 
Dim starry myriads marshall'd nigh, 

His Hyads in the van. 
Their solemn arbiter of old, 
Still from his beacon fall 
The fateful ruddy fires that hold 
A thousand worlds in thrall. 

Nathless, no star nor satellite, 

No galaxy of suns, 
Strewing vague splendor o'er the night, 

Where its weird circle runs. 
Avails with changeful orb to move 

One jot or tittle fine 
Of aught, fair youth, that doth behoove 

My destiny or thine. 

Thy fortunes in their signs were writ, 

Those signs are writ in thee, 
As when some pharos-tower has lit 

Its image in the sea. 
Prefigured shone this bloodless hand, 

This beard, these sunken eyes, 
Ere yet Chaldean shepherds scann'd 

The dial of the skies. 

[47] 



THE STAR-GAZER 

Change, there is none. Thou wouldst achieve 

The future — hold the clew, 
Old threads unwinding, thence to weave 

A fabric of the New. 
Deem now the subtler wisdom his, 

Who seeks not, falteringly. 
What 'Svas" or 'Vill be," but what is 

And shall forever be. 



What though a fitful languor blears 

Dread Algol's gleaming eye? 
What though the pole-star reels and veers. 

Bending in sure reply 
To the slow-nodding Earth, ordain 'd 

To touch and turn once more 
The goal her slanted globe has gain'd 

Ten-thousand times before. 



Nay, ask me me not what issue waits 

Thy venturous design. 
Tempt not the silence of the Fates ; 

Nor, vaunting to untwine 
With hand untimely their coil'd skein, 

The blameless stars belie, 
Caird in the ambient sphere to reign 

Thy natal hour foreby. 

[48] 



THE STAR-GAZER 

But tarry rather, whilst I trace 

The scant and simple lines 
Of a life-picture, that with grace 

Of no proud emblem shines ; 
Not in vain lowliness conceived, 

Nor lofty passion's glow, 
But, like the inland mere, unheaved 

By pangs of ebb and flow. 



An only child was I; and one 

Of lonely temper — prone 
The boisterous merry throng to shun, 

And ramble forth alone; 
Sometime, high clambering to explore 

Paths of the still, dark wood 
That frown 'd down, where, hard by the shore, 

My mother's cottage stood. 



Yet, near the sea-bank's shelving sand. 

By swallows thridded, best 
I loved to linger, on the strand 

Wave-wash 'd, in childish quest 
Of shells and stones and seaweeds bright ; 

Glancing, betimes, aw^ay 
To watch some white-w^ng'd vessel's flight 

Forth from the inner bay. 

[48] 



THE STAR-GAZER 

Such eve as waits on brumal days 

Whose calm no cloudlet mars 
First won my rapt and curious gaze 

To this black night of stars. 
Sharp was their glitter; and methought 

They pierced the frosty air 
In stern, sad admonition, fraught 

With penance or despair. 



I learn 'd to know them. For there dwelt, 

Yet farther from the town 
Than we, beyond the brook and belt 

Of pine-trees straggling down 
Shoreward, with granite boulders lined, 

A hermit old and gray, 
By children dreaded. He divined, 

When near his cell to stray 



Chance wanderings led me, my grave mood 

And meditative bent. — 
Rare hours, as with a grandsire good, 

By that rude hearth I spent. 
Wise proverbs held he, in full store. 

Tales and quaint histories; 
And secrets of supernal lore. 

Unshared of men, were his. 

[50] 



THE STAR-GAZER 

What powers the fickle moon constrain, 

The hermit show 'd me ; what 
Portents to terrors dire pertain, 

By pest or famine brought. 
Much, so in pious order said, 

I heard and ponder 'd well; 
Yet, in his great black book I read 

More than he wist to tell. 



There, on its dingy pages wide, 

Lay spread the astral sphere, 
Which thrice-four ruling Signs divide, 

Twelve Houses of the year; 
While constellated figures strange 

Haunt each his native zone. 
Some toward the zenith wont to range, 

Some to the nadir known. 



And what I learn 'd I taught again. 
Deem not, sir stranger, those 

Who on still paths aloof from men 
Seeming to wander, close 

Their gates to the dull fatuous herd- 
Deem not the anchoret 

A pity-sever 'd soul, unstirr'd 
By fondness and regret ; 

[51] 



THE STAR-GAZER 

Nor that true thoughts, whose force hath swell'd 

Springs of the pensive heart, 
Till by rich overflow compell'd 

Its burthen to impart. 
Shall fail their blessing to convey. 

With message vainly sped, 
Though a child finger point the way. 

And childish steps be led. 



To a near neighbor's fostering care 

A shipwreck 'd man consign 'd 
(So his crush 'd fortunes to repair 

And in due season find 
The dear pledge biding its true claim) 

A little daughter. She 
Scarce eight years reckon 'd to her name, 

Eleven were past for me. 



Comrades we proved. No outer mark 

Did of like mien appear. 
To bind us. Her great eyes were dark, 

Her brow shone swarthy-clear. 
But a mysterious concord rare 

Of query and reply — 
Of mingled faith and wonder there ; 

Here, of wise ministry. 

[52] 



THE STAR-GAZER 

Oft, by the tide-worn marge, serene 

Still afternoons, heart-free, 
After the closed school, now between 

Gray crag and whispering sea 
We roved, now on the pebbly sand 

At the wet edge stoop 'd; fain 
The crab to capture, or lay quick hand 

(Dash'd with the briny rain) 



Upon small silvery fishes, flung 

Danger 'd or past restore, 
To gasp and leap and quiver among 

Strange mates of the dry shore. 
I told her how the frolic brood 

Their fierce foe fail to heed, 
Then in mad sudden flight pursued 

To shallow refuge speed. 



When autumn round the northern wave 

Night's mantle earlier threw, 
What time no gairish moonbeams drave 

The weakling stars from view, 
We, some hour (while below our feet 

My nested swallows slept) , 
From the tall sea-bank's beetling seat 

Watch 'd the slow Wain, that swept 

[53] 



THE STAR-GAZER 

Low-wheeling past the watery verge, 

Cloud-blended, threatful; yet 
Not once by that wild, darkling surge 

Are its bright axles wet. 
I show'd her there the pointers twain, 

Which to the lodestar lead. 
Whereof, her lost course to regain. 

Each errant bark hath need. 



Then, why the polar tract inclines 

With tilted shaft, I tried 
To show; and named the potent Signs, 

Some here at harvest-tide, 
Some missing. — She turn'd, wonderingly, 

And faintly smiled, at tale 
Of crabs and fishes in the sky. 

I said: *'No ship shall sail 



''Your farthest ocean, nor even a bird 

Skim the wide billowy waste. 
But fateful planets erst concurr'd 

Thereto, with sure stars placed 
In dominant conjunction. So 

'T is in wise books writ plain — 
What ancient men, mindful to know, 

Solved, searching. Look again, 

[54] 



THE STAR-GAZER 

''Where yonder huddling swarm, apart 
From their star comrades flown, 

Upward with light wings seems to dart- 
As 'Seven Sisters' known. 

Six only though we now behold. 
Another in sooth there is, 

Seen sometime, sometime gone. Of old, 
Dove children, Pleiades, 



"Men call'd them: which fond daughters true, 

Once harvest-toils begun, 
Straight with ungarner'd shreds upflew. 

Their father's cheer. But one. 
As oft betwixt white cliffs they sped, 

Each time was sunder 'd far, — 
That lost one." Myra laugh 'd and said, 

"/am the seventh star." 



Came winter; and, flowery spring withal 

From Myra's sire had come 
Tidings and token and the call 

To her far foreign home. 
All freighted the tall vessel lay. 

And would, from the quay-side, 
Drop seaward to the outer bay 

With the late-ebbing tide. 

[55] 



THE STAR-GAZER 

Then straight, as she her cable slipt 

And the huge hull began 
To move, I, where the hill-ridge dipt, 

Back by the cross-path ran 
Homeward, and with expectant gaze 

Stood on our bank once more. 
Soon her black mast-tips I saw graze 

The sky-line, where the shore 



Sloped to the harbor bar. And now 

She glided forth full-seen ; 
And the fresh breeze athwart her bow 

Catching, I saw her lean 
And shiver, with cross-haul'd topsails lit 

By evening's roseate glow 
Fading behind me. Bathed in it, 

Through purple waters, slow 



But steadily the good ship clove 

A northward furrow, until. 
Hid by the rocks at Hermit's Grove, 

I lost her: — watching still; 
For, tacking easterly, anon. 

With her ship's light hove high. 
In the wide offing, pale and wan, 

Those sails I could descry. 

[56] 



THE STAR-GAZER 

But to one formless spark they seem'd 

To shrinkj which, with the sea 
Commingling, fainter and fainter gleam 'd 

Spread and swam mistily; 
Then, like a firefly's baffling trace 

That on some dewy lawn 
At nightfall sportive children chase, 

Glimmer 'd once — and was gone. 



As in a dream I turn'd. Some tinge 
Of the day's vanish 'd fire 

Did the hill-edged horizon fringe 

With dappled crests. And higher, 

Yet sunward leaning, the soft-named 
Planet, from heavenly seat 

Her vesper sovereignty proclaim 'd 
With silvery visage sweet. 



So to their orbits true those spheres 

Celestial meet and move ; 
Which I, thenceforward, through the years 

By comradeship should prove 
Steadfast and guileless. For, all zest 

Of boyish pastime stale. 
And my good mother to her rest 

Now taken, her pittance frail 

[57] 



THE STAR-GAZER 

Falling to me — enough for bread, — 

What reck'd I, so, with men 
To walk, if the weird paths to tread, 

To know each denizen. 
Of infinite heaven I might essay? 

Nor hath slow age yet learn 'd. 
Here in my silent tower (what way 

Thy steps to-night have turn'd). 



To cease or lose or spurn the lore 

Through this true glass read clear. 
Men say, forsooth. Who at my door 

Enter eth and shall hear 
Response of mine, he can assure 

The hopes of his emprise. 
Or, by sage prescience, work cure 

Of treacherous maladies. 



And they believe not, when I ask, 

What profits it, at noon 
To call night's revel and unmask 

The spectral guests too soonf— 
The ^'future" ye feign is — is now; 

Nor, when in hour condign 
Led forth as present, doth its brow 

With borrow 'd graces shine. 

[58] 



The Isle of Circe 



f\ ^eb^ f)8 YDvrj. 



The Isle of Circe 

AY, well may moisten 'd eyes with pity 
glisten, 
Great king and gracious queen and feasters 
all, 
Whilst by the night-fed fagot-flame ye listen 
To woes your sovereign pleasure would recall. 

Weary our hands, as through slow hours they 
wielded 
The long tough oar-sweeps past gray rings of 
foam; 
Weary our hearts, whereto no beacon yielded 
Or glimmering hope or semblance frail of 
home. 

Rather, full oft to mourn, while strange waves 
cleaving. 
True comrades by wild men and monsters 
slain : 
Their souls bespoke to peace; their poor bones 
leaving 
Blanch 'd on hot sands or rotting in the rain. 



Remain 'd one ship, and shipmates fifty drove 
her 
Unrestingly, that day, till eventide, 
[61] 



THE ISLE OF CIRCE 

When, as the sudden moon's full beam broke 
over 
The sea's far edge, a shining shore I spied. 

I prest the helm, sign 'd for smart stroke ; and, 
swinging 
Across low glittering surf-crests toward the 
land. 
She, like a straight-flung goat-spear, forward 
springing 
Leapt a half keel-length up the hard white 
sand. 

Silent we supp'd; yet could no caution banish 
That slumber to limb-weary mortals due 

When at the gates of dreams their sorrows 
vanish 
And with the wakening sun-god rise anew. 

So, by the mottled dawn, ere the stern giver 
Of light and labors the pale sleepers smote, 

Myself stood up, and seizing bow and quiver 
Clomb to a bare-peak 'd hillock, thence to note 

What region haply held us. An island, lowly 
Set in the azure waves, I saw: its rim 

More bare, with woody folds upswelling slowly, 
Like a boss'd shield, to a green centre dim. 

[62] 



THE ISLE OF CIRCE 

Whence, from that midway bower, ere yet I 
tended 
With the first sun-shaft downward, to relate 
These prospects view'd, at once quick smoke 
ascended 
Coiling. Which thrill 'd me when I saw, and 
straight 

I thought to go and prove: stay'd then to pon- 
der — 
Might it not profit, rest or feast to-day, 
To-morrow send some questioning band forth 
yonder ? 
And the Luck-bringer help 'd ; for in my way, 



Soon half retraced, an antler 'd deer stoop 'd 
drinking 
Where a spring widen 'd. His bent neck, seen 
true, 
A hurtling arrow pierced. With hoarse moan 
sinking 
Limp at the weedy marge he lay. I drew 



Quickly my blade, cut short his strife, firm 
fastened 
The hooves by withes together, my quarry 
slung 

[63] 



THE ISLE OF CIECE 

Shoulderwise ; and, with steps by burthen 
hastened, 
Before my glad mates the huge prize I flung. 

' ' Courage ! " I cried ; ' ' not yet the Stygian ferry 
' ' Shall claim our crossing, sorrow-spent withal. 
' ' There 's drink aboard ; here 's other cheer ; wax 
merry ; 
**Be one day named Sea-wanderers' Fes- 
tival!" 



And, to obey not slow, in rightful order 
All services they wrought ; the wine-jars tapt ; 

And drank and ate and laugh 'd, till eve the 
border 
Of that round isle in drowsy slumber wrapt. 

But at cool morn, in council call'd, discreetly 
My thoughts I broach 'd: ''Comrades, shall 
any try, 

''So by the belted sea begirt completely, 
' ' Or right or left to wend, or forth to hie ? 

"Remains naught but the quest. O'er mid-isle 
hovering 
"Smoke yestermorn from high seat I could 
see. 

[64] 



THE ISLE OF CIRCE 

''One half shall go; one half bide its discover- 
ing: 
' ' Eurylochus guiding those ; these led by me. " 

So I said. But their hearts were crushed, and 
grievous 
Their cries, those horrid hosts remembering 
well, 
Eaters of men. Yet could no tears retrieve us. 
Quickly the lots we cast; and it befell 

Eurylochus he should go. Sad farewells spoken, 
Weeping they went, weeping we watch 'd their 
train 
Wind hillward; wondering sore what might be- 
token 
That dwellers' sign, or benison or bane. — 

Scarce was the sun to his mid-pathway risen, 

When from the copse Eurylochus we saw 

come. 

Alone he crept; nor could his tongue unprison, 

All grief -engross 'd and with pale horror 

dumb. 

Not till we, in amaze and hot desire 
Of tidings, him did importune and pray, 

[65] 



THE ISLE OF CIRCE 

Found he a voice : ' ' Up through wild brake and 
brier, 
^'As thou didst charge, Ulysses, we held way, 



''And to a mansion came, splendid and stately: 
"Itself unthreatening ; but by the gateway . 

glower 'd j I 

"Tigers and grisly wolves. Some crouch 'd se- 
dately ^ 
"Chap-licking; some, wagging long tails, 
sprang forward, 



'And their huge paws on lap or shoulders 
throwing, 
"Fain upon us like petted dogs to fawn, 
Seem'd with big eyes to beg and bar our going. 
' ' But we, these passing, cross 'd the court-yard 
lawn; 



"Then paused, as at the porch we stood, to 
hearken 
' ' What throbbings fell of a great loom 's sharp 
hum; 
"While, where low pendent films of vine-leaf 
darken 
"Those fatal doors, sound of sweet song did 
come, 

[66] 



THE ISLE OF CIRCE 

"Forth swelling — and the whole air moan'd; or 
human 
' ' The voice, or of a goddess. Then of ns one, 
" 'Hark! hark,' cried; 'some nymph divine or 
woman 
" 'Within doth weave and sing. Call we!' 
" 'T was done: 

''They spoke and call'd. The tall doors swang 
asunder ; 
"She came; bade enter; and in mad folly aU 
"(Save me who stopt suspicious) vanish 'd 
under 
"That roof of hell, past rescue or recall." 

Eurylochus ceased. — My sword to shoulder 
slinging, 
Bright-bladed, keen, me straightway I bade 
lead 
By the same path. But at my feet, close cling- 
ing. 
Prone he lay, and in piteous tone did plead : 

"Not thither, great Ulysses! take me not 
thither ! 
"Thyself will ne'er return. 'T were better, 
die 

[67] 



THE ISLE OF CIRCE 

''Than as charm 'd wolf or leopard pine and 
wither. 
''Nay, these still live; with these to ship and 
fly!" 

"Eurylochus, thou," I said, "art free to tarry 
"Eating and drinking by the beach 'd pin- 
nace here. 

' ' But I some cure to my lost comrades carry : 
" 'T is stern necessity ; my course lies clear. ' ' 

So saying, with swift steps my way I winded 
Upward, far spurning ship and sandy shore; 

Darkly the while of ancient griefs reminded, 
And o'er these fresher marvels brooding sore. 

And as to the grove-cinctured summit nearer 
I drew, and of that island-dome grew ware, 

Which, where the slanting sunbeam pierced, 
seen clearer. 
Gave glimpse of its enchanted portals, there 

Met me a princely youth, blooming and tender — 
Such grace as briefest sits on mortal head; 

And straight I knew again the weird Luck- 
sender. 
He, my hand pressing, in low accents said: 

[68] 



THE ISLE OF CIRCE 

''Whither now, fate-worn wanderer, thicket- 
threading, 
* ' Tendest alone in guileful region strange ? 
''Thy comrades yonder in foul sties now bed- 
ding 
"The bristly penance pay of porcine change. 

"Whom to redeem, forsooth, thou goest? Rather 
"Thyself like them in swinish couch to lie! 

"But lo, take thou the antidote, ere farther 
"Thy rash steps mount, of Circe's sorcery. 

"When she with gracious hand the poison 'd 
chalice 
"Proffers (which nathless quaff thou undis- 
may'd), 
"This potent herb in turn shall stay the malice 
' ' Of those black arts, and 'neath the threaten- 
ing blade 

"Of thy bare sword her proud soul quail and 
cower. ' ' 
So saying, a frail plant pulling from the 
ground, 
He show'd me. Black its root, milk-white the 
flower. 
Moly its name divine; of man, scarce found. 

[69] 



THE ISLE OF CIRCE 

The helping god was gone. Plain signs 1 

follow 'd ; 

And, as I pass'd the sad-eyed monsters tame, 

Of the good drug I held some portion swallow 'd; 

And on the moaning porch strong-hearted 

came ; 

Nor paused to hear, but with clear voice uplifted 
I call'd. She came; beneath the slumbrous 
vine 
Led where dim sun, through flickering shadows 
sifted, 
And crimson glow of shimmering walls com- 
bine, 

Into the bright-hued banquet-hall. All gently 
On ivory throne she made me sit; fiU'd high 

The fragrant wine-cup (which malevolently 
She had with bane infused) ; and her dark 
eye 

Beam'd with soft fervor, the fell draught com- 
mending. 
But when it (bane-bereft) had pass'd my 
throat. 
The sorceress then, the while she forward bend- 
ing 
With white arm raised and golden wand me 
smote, 

[70] 



THE ISLE OF CIRCE 

Did by harsh word her bosom's guile discover: 
''Hence to the sty! Go join thy wallowing 
mates ! ' ' 
But like the cloud-spark my swift sword flash 'd 

over 
Her pale brow and pearl-twined luxuriant 

plaits 

Of ebon hair. With loud shriek she sped under 

My sword-arm's menace, and close clasping 

cried : 

''What man art thou^ What mortal hath such 

wonder 

"Unheard-of wrought, these potions to abide? 

"For never, never did other lips unblighted 
"Press the drugg'd bowl, save thine. Ah yes, 
't was true ! 
"Ulysses thou art, whose coming the sure- 
sighted 
"Wing'd Messenger oft warn'd me I should 

rue, 

"From Trojan field thy lone bark homeward 
steering. — 
"But sheathe, I pray, thy sword; and come 
where rest 

[71] 



THE ISLE OF CIRCE 

''The wanderer waits — ^with love thy sad heart 
cheering 
''And couch of more than mortal charms pos- 
ses!" 

"Fair Circe, dread enchantress, darest thou 
utter 
"Love's name (I answered), whilst in noi- 
some sty 
' ' My hapless comrades with brute voices mutter 
"The anguish bred of thy fierce contumely? 

" Think 'st thou this hilted blade hath foil'd all 
vainly 
"Those charms whose dart gods only may 
repel 
"(Or man with god), but to succumb insanely 
"To the bland witchery of second spell?" 

I spoke. And, with no word, her steps she 
guided 

Across the festal chamber's polish 'd floor 
And the paved corridor whose length divided 

The palace from the postern pens. Their door 

Flung wide, forth rush'd the headlong swinish 
rabble 

(Sad souls in bristly skin and porcine mould) 
Groaning and groveling with half -human babble 

At the enchantress' feet. With wand of gold 

[72] 



THE ISLE OF CIRCE 

Poised in her firm soft hand, before them throw- 
ing 
A different drug — which they devour 'd, she 
then 
Touch 'd lightly each one. Straightway I saw 
off flowing 
Their brutal rough integuments. Again 

My men they were and knew me; and each 
portly 
Embower 'd column re-murmur 'd our fond 
cries, 
As they clung to me and kiss'd my hands. Then 
shortly 
Spoke Circe : ' ' Cease ; no more of tearful eyes ; 

'' 'T is well. Now by bright afternoon unbroken 
*' Speed thy way downward to the wave- 
fretted strand, 
''Wily Ulysses; and to thy mates take token 
''Of this our bounteous cheer and helpful 
hand." 

Nor tarried I ; but soon by that sore-hearted 
Despairing company with glad mien I stood: 

It was as if some father, long departed, 

Had from the grave his whilom life renew 'd. 

[73] 



THE ISLE OF CIRCE 

"Refrain! refrain!" I cried; "kindles no longer 
' ' The sullen sea-god his belated ire : 

"The potions brew'd at Circe's board flow 
stronger 
"Than Aeol's blasts or dull Cyclopean fire. 

"Then follow, spell-inspired; seize chance and 
follow, 
"Ere yonder sun-god stoops to the sapphire 
lake! 
"Upward, with winged feet, o'er hill and hol- 
low; 
' ' And in enchanted halls your wassail take ! ' ' 



But, royal sire, the fagot-flame, to ember 

Sinking apace, bids spare your patient ears. 

The tale is long; nor boots it to remember 
Too many woes at once of vanish 'd years. 

Another eve, if suiteth so thy pleasure, 

Thine and the noble queen's, I shall renew 

These tasks begun: how the sure homeward 
measure 
Of our weird voyage immortal Circe drew; 

How my ship 's crew, her warnings all unheeded. 
Wander 'd to death without those mystic walls, 
For that their souls a subtler knowledge needed 
Of the charm 'd cup that heals while it en- 
thralls. 

[74] 



Ulysses' Convoy 



Finis et erroris miseri Phaeacia tellus. 



Ulysses' Convoy 

HIS tale was ended. But the throng 
Were hush'd in silence all: 
Spell-bound their speechless thoughts were 
held 
Throughout the shadowy hall. 

Then King Alcinoiis spoke and said: 

''Ulysses, since at last 
''Within my mansion's ample gates 

"Thy wandering feet have pass'd, 

"Therefore, methinks, no hopes deferr'd, 
"No doubts or drif tings more 

"Await thee, though full many and dire 
"Thy sorrows heretofore. — 

"But ye, my lieges, every one, 
"Mark me — ye who each day 

' ' Sit by, the council wine to quaff 
"And hear the minstrel's lay: 

"Pack'd for our guest the strong chest holds 
"The garments, gold fine-wrought, 

"And other gifts, which to my hearth 
"Phaeacian nobles brought. 

[77] 



ULYSSES' CONVOY 

''But let us give him, man for man, 
''Tripod and bowl beside — 

"By tithes collected we, in turn, 
"Shall be indemnified." 

Thus spoke Aleinoiis; and his words 

Full approbation earn'd. 
They then unto their several homes 

For nightly rest return 'd. 

But soon as rosy-finger 'd dawn 
Her earliest beam display 'd, 

Briskly they to the ship their gifts 
Of shining bronze convey 'd. 

These in her hold the king himself, 

Aleinoiis, safe bestow 'd, 
Where naught should hinder hand or arm 

Of oarsmen, while they row'd. 

Next, to their sovereign's house again, 

A banquet to prepare. 
A bullock to great Zeus he slew. 

The cloud-wrapt Thunderer. 

Choice parts in worship burn 'd, themselves 

To glorious feasting fell. 
For them, Demodocus plied his song. 

The bard they honor 'd well. 

[78] 



ULYSSES' CONVOY 

So fared they. But Ulysses oft 

Sunward his glances turn'd, 
In haste its setting to behold, 

So for the start he yearn 'd. 

As when a man who all day long 

Has plough 'd a field, behind 
Two tawny oxen, holds no thought 

But supper in his mind; 

And glad he is, when the sun dips, 

To plod his weary way 
Homeward, so was Ulysses glad 

To note its sinking ray. 

Straightway to his Phaeacian hosts, 

Those lovers of the oar, 
He spoke ; but to the king his words 

Their chiefest message bore. 

^'Alcinoiis, ruler of the land, 

''This people's glorious head, 
''Pour offerings and dismiss me now, 

"By safe, sure convoy sped. 

"And fare ye well. This hour brings true 

"My dream of happiness: 
"Convoy and gifts, all which I pray 

"The gods of heaven may bless. 

[79] 



ULYSSES' CONVOY 

"May I, home reaching, scatheless find 
' ' True wife and all most dear ; 

"As may yourselves make glad jovly wives 
"And children, tarrying here. 

"Every well-being 't is my prayer 
"Be yours, by heaven's behest; 

"And never may mischance or bane 
"On this good people rest." 

So said he; and applauding loud 

They bade with one accord 
To set the guest upon his way, 

So righteous was his word. 

Then to his herald spoke the king: 

' ' Pontonoiis, wine to hand ! 
"That Father Zeus may speed our guest 

"Forth to his native land." 

So through the hall each f caster's cup 

Fill'd high in solemn wise, 
Libation to the gods, who hold 

Blest mansions in the skies, 

Right where they sat they pour'd. — Then rose 

Ulysses, thus the last 
Speaking, as to Arete 's hand 

A brimming cup he pass'd. 

[80] 



ULYSSES' CONVOY 

"With my farewell, queen, abide 

"Rejoicing to the end; 
"Unto old age and death, whose fates 

"O'er mortal men impend. 

"I go; but dwell thou happy here 
"In this house, gladdening 

"Thy children and the people and 
"Alcinoiis the king." 

So saying, great Ulysses cross 'd 
The threshold, while the way 

Shoreward a royal herald led. 
Where the swift vessel lay. 

Also the queen sent maids. One bore 

Mantle and tunic fine; 
Another fetch 'd the well-lock 'd chest; 

A third brought bread and wine. 

By sea and ship arriving, straight 
All these the gallant crew 

Received and stored. Then, for his bed 
On deck abaft they threw 

Soft rugs and linen coverlet. 
Suited to sleep profound. 

Ulysses, next, himself on board 
In silence laid him down; 

[81] 



ULYSSES' CONVOY 

Whilst they their seats took, each with all 

Well order 'd to agree, 
And from the punctured mooring-stone 

Cast the stern-cable free. 

As they, back leaning, spurn 'd the brine 

Abaft with bending blade, 
That moment on Ul jesses' eyes 

The spell of sleep was laid; 

Sleep of the sweetest, deathlike, deep. — 

But she, as on footing dry 
Four stallions, springing with one bound 

Under the lash, fling high 

Their heels, and swiftly scour the plain, 
Even so the pinnace sprang 

Stern high, and mightily behind 
The purple billow sang. 

Steady she ran, unswerving, sure ; 

Nor with her fleet emprise 
Might even the wheeling falcon vie, 

The swiftest bird that flies.^ — 

Thus the swift vessel plough 'd the waves, 

Bearing a crafty man 
Like the immortals in wise arts 

Of shrewd, resourceful plan. 

[82] 



ULYSSES' CONVOY 

Unnumber'd woes his heart had known, 
By wars and wanderings taught; 

But now in peaceful sleep he lay, 
Those sorrows all forgot. — 

What hour uprose morn's herald star, 

The brightest in the sky, 
That hour unto Ulysses' isle 

The speeding ship drew nigh. 

A bay there is, of Phoreys named, 

The old man of the sea. 
In Ithaca, where two jutting crags 

Slope inward crouchingly. 

These fend the storm-roll'd billows off 

Without; and, once inside, 
Boats all unanchor'd and unmoor 'd 

In waveless shelter ride. 

There grows an olive, slender-leaved, 

Hard by the harbor's head; 
Near it a lovely grotto dim, 

Divinely tenanted 

By nymphs call'd naiads. Bowls and urns 

Of native stone, descried 
Dimly within. — Hither wild bees 

Their fragrant treasure hide. — 

[83] 



ULYSSES' CONVOY 

Tall looms of stone within, whereon 
Sea purple shot with gold 

The naiads weave to filmy veils, 
A wonder to behold! 

Pure trickling Avater has the grot ; 

And two doorways incline, 
The one toward Boreas, trod by men 

The other, more divine, 

Faces the South Wind. To this door 
No human step draws near: 

Only immortal beings know 
The way to enter here. — 

Into the harbor, known of old. 

They drove the convoy bark; 

Beach 'd her a half-length on the sand 
Above high-water mark. 



[84] 



ULYSSES' CONVOY 

Then, first, Ulysses from the ship 

They lifted, bed and all, 
And laid him on the sandy shore. 

By slumber held in thrall. 

His goods, next, which Athena moved 

Phaeacians to bestow. 
Beside the olive-tree they brought 

And set them in a row, 

Well from the trodden path apart, 

Lest the wayfaring folk 
Might have the pickix.^ of the pile 

Before Ulysses woke. 



[85] 



Agamemnon's Ruth 



.... nee siletur illud potentissimi regis ana- 
paestum, qui laudat senem et fortunatum esse 
dicii, quod inglorius sit atque ignoUlis ad supre- 
mum diem perventurus. 



Agamemnon's Ruth 

A GAM. Old man, to the front here ! 
Come forth. 
0. M. Forth I come. — 

What new work, Agamemnon my lord? 
Agam. Haste on. 
O.M. Here I haste. 

All sleepless mine age, right watchful 

of eye, 
to attend thy command. 
Agam. What star plies its way yonder? 
0. M. Sirius, 

nigh to the seven-crown 'd Pleiad 
onrolling, in mid-heaven yet. 
Agam. Ay, true. Not a sound, — 
nor of birds nor the sea. 
Full silent, each wind 

his peace o'er Euripus is holding. 
0. M. But thou, 

why without thy pavilion dost hie, 
Agamemnon my lord? 
Quiet reigns over Aulis. Not yet 
stirs the watch on the wall. — 
Go we in.- — 
Agam. Aged man, 

I envy thy lot. 

[89] 



AGAMEMNON'S RUTH 

That mortal I envy, 

whose life-course, undanger'd, 

hath sped to the end, unhonor'd, un- 
known. — 

But the great, 

them I envy not so. 
0. M. Yet there 

lies the beauty of life. 
Agam. But that beauty, how frail! 

Sweet is honor; yet bitter, betimes, 

when the times suit it not. — 

Now, 't is heaven's behest, unfulfill'd, 

makes havoc of life; 

now, 't is man, 

with his clashing opinions, works 
ruin. 
0. M. Nay, I cannot admire 

such words spoke by one of thy lofty 
estate. 

Not the price 

of unclouded good-cheer, 

Agamemnon, paid'st thou 

for Atreus as sire. 

Joy is due thee — with pain, 

since mortal thou art. 

Though it be not thy choice, 

yet the gods, in their pleasure, 

shall order it thus. — 

But now, 

[90] 



AGAMEMNON'S EUTH 

by the lamp's ample flame, 

a letter thou writest, 

the same 

thou still hast in hand. 

Writing first, then erasing; 

sealing now, now unsealing; 

the tablet anon 

to the earth thou dost fling, 

the big tear forth-welling meanwhile. 

No sign of despair 

is absent : of madness, no mark but thou 

bearest. 
What stirs thee ? What means 
this strange trouble, my king? 
Pray thy story impart. 
To a good man and true 
thou wilt breathe it. 
Of old, 

with thy consort I came 
to thy mansion: even I, 
by Tyndareus sent, one part of her 

dower ; 

to serve on the bride and be loyal. 
Agam. Forth then, 
unto Argos 

this missive bear thou. — 
And more, 
in its folds 
what the tablet conceals, 

[91] 



AGAMEMNON'S RUTH 

by word I will tell thee, 
all that's writ here; for faithful indeed 
art thou, to the queen, to us all. 
0. M. Say on, make it known, 

that my tongue with thy written decree 
may accord. 
Agam. [reads] 

"To my first tidings now I send, 
* ' child of Leda, this new word : 
"not to guide our daughter forth, 
"toward Euboea's bosomy wing, 
"unto wave-spent Aulis. 
"At some future hour will we 
"spread the nuptial banquet." 
O.M. But Achilles, thus baffled,— 
how, pray, can he fail 
his heart-swelling anger to visit amain 
on thee and thy spouse? 
Here is danger. Declare, 
what say'st thou? 
Agam. The name, not the blame, 
is Achilles'. Of nuptials 
naught knows he, knows naught of our 

scheme : 
how I solemnly sanction 'd 
the gift to his arms 
of our daughter as bride. 
0. M. Ah ! fell was thy daring, 
Agamemnon, my lord. 

[92] 



AGAMEMNON'S KUTH 



Agam. 



O.M. 
Agam. 



O.M. 

Agam. 



Thy daughter, to wed the goddess-born 

man, 
thou didst promise : and then 
for the Danaans' sake 
wouldst lead her to death. 
Woe is me ! my good spirit hath fail 'd 

me. 
Woe, woe ! to the curse I am fallen. — 
But go ! ply thy foot, 
not with step of old age. 
'T is speedy, king. 
Hearken now! 
By the grove-border 'd fountains sit 

not! 
Let no slumber beguile thee ! 
Forbear, say no more. 
Each time, far or near, 
some cross-road when passing, 
spy about thee; beware, 
lest thou mark not the flying of wheels 

that roll past, 
to the Danaan ships 
hither bringing my child. 
For if so the convoy thou do then en- 
counter, 
straight back turn the steeds, 
swing the lash, 
for the solemn Cyclopean homestead 

straight aiming. 

[93] 



AGAMEMNON'S RUTH 

0. M. 'T shall be done. 
Agam. Sally forth ! 
0. M. But for these 

my tidings, declare 
what surety shall be, 
to thy child, to thy queen? 
Agam. The seal (guard it well) 

on the missive thou bringest. — 

Away! Pale already 

yon day-beam (the sun-god, 

his chariot of fire) 

gleams out. Seize thy portion of toil. 

Of mortals, not one 

all-prosper 'd shall be, 

consummately blest. 

None is born but his birthright is 
sorrow. 



[94] 



Temple Song 

Ion 
(In front of the temple at daybreak) 

MARK yon bright steeds and chariot of the 
Sun ! 
Now on the world below 
He beams; and while each star, 
Before that fiery ray, 
Back into solemn night doth run, 
Parnassus' pathless summits take the glow 
Kindled for mortals by the orb of day. 

Now, in Apollo's temple, roofward floats 
Curling myrrh-incense; and the Pythian maid 
Sits at her tripod shrine, 
Chanting for Hellas the prophetic notes 
Echoed from Phoebus' lips divine. 

Then come, ye Delphian servitors of Him! 

Approach Castalia's silver-eddying fount; 

And at the dewy brim 

Your hands with pure drops lave, 

Ere to these sacred precincts ye may mount; 

Guarding a hush'd and holy tongue; 

[95] 



TEMPLE SONG 

Letting no voice untoward thrill the ear 

Of them who crave 

Their dark oracular destinies to hear. 

Whilst I the toil renew 

That, from a child, hath ever claim 'd my care: 

To sweep, with wreathed laurel-bough, each holy 

avenue 
Of Phoebus' halls; 

His floor with freshest waters to bedew; 
And with my bow and arrows put to flight 
The wing'd intruders that would mar 
The spotless statues white. 
Fatherless, motherless I grew; 
And so I render to these fostering walls 
The grateful service to kind parents due. 



[96] 



TEMPLE SONG 

Ply, then, ply your frondage green. 
Besom of fresh-blooming bay: 

Over the pavement's marble sheen 
So by His altar softly sway. 

Scion of groves immortal, where 

Quenchless waters round you play'd, 

Leaping to bright ambrosial air; 
Or in the sacred myrtle-shade: 

Help me still my homage bring, 
That to Apollo's fane I pay, 

Soon as the day-star trims his wing. 
All day long, and day by day. 

lo Paean! io Paean! 

Glory, glory be to thee, 

child of Leto, through eternity. 



[97] 



TEMPLE SONG 

Sweet is the toil and beautiful, 

Laid, Phoebus, on my hand 

At thy radiant vestibule. 

Prophet-portal of the land. 

Honor the guerdon is of grace: 

Heaven's illustrious servant I, 

Bounden to no mortal race, 

But to the gods, who never die. 

Holy labor wearieth not; 

Witness, in glad praise, I bear 
Unto the giver of my lot, 

Lord of the temple, great and fair. 

lo Paean ! io Paean ! 

Glory, glory be to thee, 

child of Leto, through eternity. 



But from the busy sheaf 

Of trailing laurel-leaf 

'T is time to turn; 

And with my golden urn 

Now will I sprinkle forth 

The crystal streams of Earth, 

That gush'd from bubbling Castaly, 

And scatter 'd are by me 

With holy hand and pure. 

[98] 



TEMPLE SONG 

0, that forevermore 

My service may endure 

To Phoebus, and cease not — 

Save for some blissful happy lot. 

Ha! ha! 
There they begin their flight, 
Leaving their aeries on Parnassus' height. — 
I tell you, hold aloof 
From the resplendent roof 
And gilded cornice rare. 

Eagle, beware! 
Straightway an arrow from my bow. 
Herald of Jove, shall lay thee low, 
Tyrant of birds with crooked claws. 

Ho! yonder another draws 
Nigh to these altars, sailor of the sky. 
A swan this time ! Pass by, pass by, 
scarlet-footed traveler, ere I shoot. 
Nay, not Apollo's lute. 
Tuned to your trumpet voice. 
Shall leave you choice ; 
But to the Delian lake 
Your winged passage take. 
Mind ! or this folly thou wilt rue. 
When blood shall trickle to a swan-song true. 

[09] 



TEMPLE SONG 

Aha! what 's here? 
What stranger-bird, 
Coming to frame some nest of leaves 
Under the consecrated eaves 
For his young brood ? This twanging string 
Shall hurry hence your wing — 
What ! mind 'st not ? Nay, go seek 
Alpheus' eddies far; there multiply your race 
To Phoebus' holy dwelling-place 
Harm shall not come. — Yet am I loath to kill 
You, winged harbingers of Heaven's will 
To mortal men. 
Only to Phoebus, then, 
To whom this life I owe, 
Let my fond service and my toil go on. 

Honor the guerdon is of grace : 

Heaven's illustrious servant I, 

Bounden to no mortal race, 

But to the gods, who never die. 

lo Paean! io Paean! 

Glory, glory be to thee, 

child of Leto, through eternity. 



[100] 



Wings Triumphant 



XaiQete a7ixr{veq. 



Wings Triumphant 

INVITATION 

TO a wonderful new sight 
We, the birds, hereby invite 
All you earthy creeping things, 
Everybody without wings. 
If you will behave, you may 
Come into our nest to-day; 
Sit around us in natty rows, 
Wearing your best Sunday clothes; 
Look as much like spick-and-span 
Jugs and flower-pots as you can. 
Welcome to the wingless. 

How is this, old Walk-on-legs, 
For a place to warm our eggs? 
Something more than sticks and straw- 
Finer than you ever saw ! 
We drop down here from the air, 
You may crawl in anywhere. 
No, there is no need to rush, 
And be sure you do not push 
Into the wrong piece of pie 
Just because you cannot fly! 
Welcome to the wingless. 

[103] 



WINGS TRIUMPHANT 

0, you want to know, no doubt, 
How birds ever did make out 
To fence in the atmosphere 
And fling up this aery here! 
That can be learnt from no other 
Than our little fairy mother; 
You are here now, not to ask 
Idle questions, but to bask- - 
And be baked — a little while 
In the sunshine of our smile. 
Welcome to the wingless. 

We think, when we bring our show 
To an end and let you go. 
After everyone has heard 
The jokes of the Dicky bird 
And has seen the winged man 
Waltzing with a pelican. 
You will be apt to remark, 
There was never such a lark 
As when Pop Chickwin was crown 'd 
In the merry-go-half-round ! 
Welcome to the wingless. 



[104] 



WINGS TRIUMPHANT 



GRAND FINALE 

Messenger 

OYE all-fortunate, more than tongue can 
tell! 
feather 'd tribes, thrice-blessed, welcome now 
Your lord and master to his happy home. 
How doth he come, more radiant than the beam 
Of some effulgent star in house of gold ! 
Not the ray'd brilliance of the far-flashing sun 
Hath shone like him, who draws nigh with his 

bride 
Of beauty ineffable, whilst in his hand he wields 
Zeus' weapon, the wing-tufted thunderbolt. 
Unspeakable fragrance into the welkin's depth 
Rises, a wondrous sight; and incense-coils 
Float idly on the weird smoke-flapping breezes. — 
But lo, behold himself ! 'T is time to ope 
The Muse's holy all-propitious mouth. 

Enter Chickwin, Easily^ and train. 
Chorus 

Fall in, fall out; fly right-about; 

Waft wide the airy portal: 
With whirring wings and feathery flings 

Surround the happy mortal! 

[105] 



WINGS TRIUMPHANT 

! ! ! what a beauteous bride 
Is that disporting by his side! 

Leader of Chorus 
All hail, thou who blest 
This city of a nest 

With a divine alliance. — 

Immense, immense the luck 
The feather 'd tribes have struck, 
Soaring by his science. 

Greet now with hymeneal shout, 
Chorals of the wedding-rout. 
Him and his Easily. 

Chorus 
Once upon a time the Fates 

Queenly Hera thus did bring 
To the most august of mates. 

The high-throned Olympian king; 
Sounding their praise even so, 
Hymen Hymenaeus ! 

Gold- wing 'd Eros was best man, 

Tight the cherub drew the reins, 

Guiding an immortal span 
Over the celestial plains. 

[106] 



WINGS TRIUMPHANT 

Happy Hera long ago! 
Hymen Hymenaeus ! 



Chick WIN 
With your songs, with your hynms, 
I'm delighted, I'm sure: 
Many thanks for your words. — 

Sing, now, straight on and glorify 
Our red lightnings of the sky; 
Our dread thunder-peals, that break 
Till the black Earth seems to quake. 



Chorus 
How gorgeous the gleam of the gold-twisted 
flashes I 
How awful the flame of the fierce thunder- 
bolt, 
With its cracks and its crashes. 
By Zeus brandish 'd of old. 



ye rumbling thunders grand, 

Cloudbursts of the mountain-brow, 

This great conqueror puts his hand 
To your fulminations now; 

Easily ordains it so. 

Hymen Hymenaeus ! 

[107] 



WINGS TRIUMPHANT 

Chick WIN 
Follow all, birds of a feather, 

Flock and follow, as you 're led, 
To the realm of sunny weather, 

Where the nuptial couch is spread.- 
Give me your hand, Birdie: how I 

Long to dance with you to-day! 
Take hold of my wings, and now I 

Whisk you clear up and away ! 

Chorus 
Huzza, huzza ! lo triumphe ! 
Huzza, huzza! Thrum, thrum! 
Thrum on a thousand strings! 
Conqueror of Kings! 

[Exeunt,] 



[108] 



Ave Piscator 



Also ye shall not use this forsayd 
crafty dysporte, for no couetysnes, 
to the encreasynge and sparynge 
of your money oonly; hut pryn- 
cypally for your solace^ and to 
cause the helthe of your body, 
and specyally of your soule. 



Ave Piscator 

There are three stages or degrees 
Of piscatorial mysteries. 

Unnumber'd accidents must meet 
To show the angler forth complete; 

Eke that which in the stars is writ, 
Piscator nascitur non fit ; 

Whilst he, on far perfection bent, 
Through each successive element, 

Mud, water, air, essays to climb. 
Moulding his destiny sublime. 



The novice, — those exist for him 
Which nigh unto the hottom swim. 

Thus, lowliest of the briny brood. 
The flounder, famed for platitude; 

In fresh, the bullhead or horn'd pout; 
The eel, long-lived and long-drawn-out. 

These teach, to hold with sandy grip 
What chances through the fingers slip ; 

[111] 



AVE PISCATOR 

To brave the heads and horns of things 
That clash with fond imaginings; 

How to doze timely, yet be full 
Of feeling for a welcome pull; 

To learn what purposes of state 
They serve who only sit and wait. 



The second stage, by one degree 
Above the bottom aims to be. 

Here, through the middle waters gleam 
Perch, shiner, chub, the plucky bream: 

A scaly company, yet each 
Blest with some faculty to teach. 

It is the realm of doubt and fear. 
Wild hopes and disappointments drear. 

But in his soul who faltereth not 
Celestial patience is begot; 

His boyish fancy is imbued 
With love of rain and solitude; 

Round him a frivolous, inane. 
Much-nibbling world will surge in vain. 

[112] 



AVE PISCATOR 

The third sphere is the top : and few, 
To its high ordinances true, 

Will for the last probation wait. 
Which sifts the small fry from the great. 

There is a finny vagabond, 
Long-nosed marauder of the pond. 

Whom nature suffereth to exist, 
Expressly that he may assist 

The callow neophyte to rise 

Through spoon-lore to the Book of Flies. 

Between the upper and mid way 
The pickerel darts upon his prey. 

Him you, when spoonless, can feel sure 
Of taking with batrachian lure. 

Draw froggy 's trousers off in haste, 
Decapitate him at the waist; 

The nether remnant then, hook'd fast, 
Fantastically dangling, cast 

Out where the lily-pads make way 
There for the still, black water — hey! 

A swell, a vortex, and a splash ! 
A tug down on the supple ash ! 

Leave him to mumble it a mite — 
Now hoist him, higher than a kite ! 

[113] 



AVE PISCATOR 

[The couplets here omitted touch upon the 
achievements of those to whom the sacred uten- 
sils have heen shown hy the Hierophant, who 
have answered the questions propounded hy him, 
and have heen finally advanced from the Lesser 
to the Greater mysteries of the Top.] 



And yet no titles to his name, 
Parchment prerequisites to fame; 

No tassel'd cap and hooded gown 
Invest the angler with renown. 

A something in his eye, his walk, 
Or in the flavor of his talk. 

Something not on the prosaic plan 
Stamps the inveterate fisherman. 

His grammar is the cloud-fleck 'd dawn, 
A forest path his lexicon, 

His specialty the universe. 

He can songs make. He doth converse 

Familiarly with jay and wren, 
Or dallies with the water-hen. 

Oft with the chipmunk he breaks bread. — 
At drowsy noon, where rests his head 

Odors of terebinth and balm, 
Exhaling slumber soft and calm, 

[114] 



AVE PISCATOR 

Wrap him in dreams. — Anon, awake — 
What peals the sultry stillness break? 

What shadow sweeps from ledge to ledge 
Before the storm-cloud 's livid edge ? 

Aeolian voices, piping shrill. 

Wail from the pines that crown the hill. 

" 'T is time," I hear Piscator say, 
'' To unjoint and quit; no more to-day." 

Behold him thread the oozy trail 
Down the dark wood athwart the gale. 

The swishing flood through holm and holt, 
The crack and fizzle of the bolt 

Cannot put out his pipe, nor dim 
His vision. 'T is enough for him 

Against his sturdy side to feel 
The swaying burthen of his creel. 



[115] 



Prologue and Epilogue 

GOOD friends, who, while ye graciously 
assist, 
Do lend our cause some reason to exist: 
Your selves to welcome, is my welcome task, 
With cordial salutation; and to ask 
Your kind attention, ere the curtain rise 
On this bright circle of expectant eyes. 
Know then, we youthful toilers love to go 
Adown the fields of wisdom, gleaning slow 
Some sheaves of knowledge from each bygone 

age; 
Whereof not least full-fruited is the stage. 
A stage the whole world did to Shakespeare 

seem: 
And such, our little college-world we deem; 
The students, players. Through these classic 

shades 
Full many a flippant trifler masquerades. 
Acting, from day to day, a learned part. 
With little love of learning in his heart. 
Sincere, the most; and yet, alas! too few 
Keen-eyed, the false to winnow from the true: 
Content, with husks to fill the growing mind, 
But to the precious golden kernel blind. 

[116] 



PROLOGUE 

Wherefore we hold well worthy of our zeal 
That ancient art, whose power to reveal 
The truth of life and manners lives to-day. 
As, by the magic of the "cathode ray," 
Through some huge pachyderm's dense skull 

we gain 
A peep into his wondrous pygmy brain. 
So the quick point, two-hundred years ago, 
Of Master Congreve 's witty pen pierced through 
The pedant's dulness; sketch 'd the madman's 

air; 
Laid the self-seeker's frail devices bare: 
Yet swift to know true merit, and accord 
To heavenly constancy its sweet reward. — 
The Play sufficient persons offers. We 
Essay to represent them. You shall see. 



[117] 



EPILOGUE 

Not, when the curtain falls, I apprehend. 
Are our fond efforts wholly at an end. 
Still lingers something, at the drama's close. 
Like the faint perfume of the folded rose. 
Apparent still before the half-shut eye 
Fair faces, graceful forms float dimly by ; 
And voices to fresh voices answering, 
Still through the corridors of memory ring. 
Therefore, while yet my mates some thought 

may claim, 
For your applause I thank you, in their name. 
May favoring Fortune on your steps attend. 
As homeward soon your several ways ye wend; 
Prosper your undertakings; and increase 
Your substance, gather 'd in the lap of Peace. 
Meantime, I charge both old and young, fail not 
To store the truths our comedy has taught. 
Predict the race not always of the swift; 
A little foresight is a dangerous gift. 
Not always falls the battle to the strong; 
As Samson learn 'd, by living over long. 
For man, the less to risk, the less to rue. 
And, each young woman, live for wisdom too : 
To be angelic, seem not all-divine. 
But prove the madness of your valentine. 



[118] 



Choral Song 



Leader 

BREAKING over Ocean's stream, 
Hesperus, of all the sky 
Best and brightest is thy beam; 
To thy beam our songs reply. 



Sunset rays our dresses wove, 
Rainbow-hues without the rain. 

Golden fruit in every grove, 
Tinkling to our fond refrain. 



Chorus 

Best and brightest in the sky. 
To his beam our harps reply. 
We his singing children are, 
Daughters of the Evening Star. 
(round dance) 



[119] 



CHORAL SONG 

Leader 

Seven sisters born of mother Night, 

Our father took us on his knees. 
She faded when we saw the light, 

And left us all Hesperides. 

The Gardens of the Gods are here; 

These founts, these flowers our emblems are. 
Our father's eye is ever near, ' 

Our mother's spirit never far. 



Chorus 

Seven sisters born of mother Night, 
She faded when we saw the light. 
Our father took us on his knees 
And christen 'd us Hesperides. 
(round dance) 



[120] 



Scyros 

MY island in the blue sea swims, 
The ceaseless ripple laps it round ; 
Its frothy edge the petrel skims, 

Her twitterings tuned to hoarser sound 
That echoes where each tireless wave 
Searches the bounds of cove and cave. 

A mountain's head my island seems. 
Of envious waters shaken free; 

Neck-like, below, a green strip gleams. 
And wrinkled brow bent on the sea. 

From crag to crag my black goats spring 

Whilst by the marge I dance and sing. 

On this my mansion's pillar 'd walls. 
Fair Asia's border fronting wide, 

The earliest ray of morning falls, 
The evening shadows soonest glide 

When the spent day-beams have declined 

To sombre lands that loom behind. 

Thence on its vengeful errand sent. 
Wafted by myriad sail and oar, 

I saw that mighty armament 
Speeding to seize the opposing shore — 

Most sure, I heard my father say, 

Their doom, to be slain and to slay. 

[121] 



Nephte's Song 

THE Nile is rising, rising; 
All silently its tide 
From sources past surmising 
Steals on the country-side. 
Full well I know what fountains 

My bosom's sorrow swell, 
Hid not shadowy mountains 
Where frosts and vapors dwell. 

The lotus-lily, sleeping, 

Smiles in her watery dream. 
One star her visage keeping 

Beneath his steadfast beam. 
0, would that heaven-lit slumber, 

That wave-borne bed were mine, 
Where trouble cannot cumber, 

Nor lodestar cease to shine. 

The Nile is falling, falling; 

Its quickening rills subside, 
To earth new life recalling 

And joys of harvest-tide. 
Mine eyes beheld the flower, 

My hand reach 'd toward the tree. 
There came no ripening hour; 

No fruit, no fruit for me. 

[122] 



Hymn 

OUR God, thou Most High, how far 
Thy benefits extended are, 
Thy mercies how profound! 
When from the lowest pit we cry 
Thou hearest, though the floods be nigh 
For to thy might nor sea, nor sky, 
Nor desert setteth bound. 



So may, Lord, thy fostering hand 
Preserve and guide us, in the land 

Of Goshen while we dwell. 
Then shall a stronghold of thy praise 
Be stablish'd, without end of days. 
In Goshen when thy children raise 

The tents of Israel. 



Whose tribes, some time, led forth by thee, 
Lord of hosts, once more shall see 

The fields of Canaan. 
The stem shall stretch its tendrils wide. 
In fruitful branches multiplied, 
From Jordan to the salt-sea side, 

Beersheba to Dan. 

[123] 



HYMN 

Our story, in far countries heard, 

Shall make each name a household word. 

Each deed a memory, 
Which in their troubled hearts will burn 
When for a sign the people yearn. 
To Zion still for refuge turn, 

And to Jehovah cry. 

Oft shall resound by many a shore 
Some voice of Rachel weeping sore. 

Nor will be comforted; 
And for all languages the same. 
The nations in thy holy name, 
God of our fathers, shall proclaim 

Their tribute to the dead. 

So may, Lord, thy fostering hand 
Preserve and guide us, in the land 

Of Goshen while we dwell. 
Then shall a stronghold of thy praise 
Be stablish'd, without end of days, 
In Goshen when thy children raise 

The tents of Israel. 



[124] 



The Athenian's Vision 



Ari!.iiiT8p f) dQ8\paoa tip h\xr\v qp^eva, 
slvai ji8 x(bv ac5v agiov |.ivaTT]Qio)v. 



The Athenian's Vision 

What land?— What sky?— What people?— 

What thronging faces seem 
To float before these waking eyes, still laden 

with their dream? 
; Whither, whither have my thoughts, by dim 

remembrance bound. 
Been wafted from that slumber on Demeter's 

holy ground? — 

For I, amid the mystic rout, — it seems but yes- 
terday, — 

Forth through the Dipylon at eve, along the 
Sacred Way, 

From Athens moved : full voices round me wove 
a solemn spell, 

While on the olive groves each gleam of torch- 
light weirdly fell. 

And in Demeter's temple, at Eleusis, I had 
view 'd 

The symbols of her sorrow pledging our beati- 
tude: 

I had seen the gifts unspeakable ; the sweet hopes 
I had heard, 

Thrilling his soul whose silent lips the golden 
key hath barr'd. 

[127] 



THE ATHENIAN'S VISION 

Then, wandering forth alone, where deep below 

the moonlit fane 
Shimmer 'd the wavelets that lap round the still 

Thriasian Plain, 
Mute revery compassing my heart, the inward 

eye yet turn'd 
Back to that mystic spectacle — the fruits, the 

wise arts learn 'd 



From the great bounteous Mother, from the lost 
Daughter, who 

From death was render 'd up to life : — thus rapt, 
myself I threw 

On earth's cool bosom down, and mused. — The 
vague stars, one by one, 

Darkling, grew faint and fainter; the night- 
wind's voice was gone; 



I slept. — Anon a vision, — ! listen to the tale,- — 

Rending the sombre shroud of sleep, beam'd out, 
upon the pale 

Curtains of dreamland pictured, and, in accents 
echoing still, 

Utter 'd the grave monitions which my awe- 
struck spirit fill. 



I' 



[128] 



THE ATHENIAN'S VISION 

Me thought, in presence manifest the Earth- 
Mother divine 

Stood by my couch with gracious mien and coun- 
tenance benign. 

A myrtle crown she wore; one arm on a wheat- 
sheaf did rest, 

Pull-ear 'd; the right hand pointed far toward 
sunset and the west. 



A voice as when soft harvest-airs o'er rippling 
corn-lands blow — 

''My true initiate," it said, ''scion of Athens, 
know 

"There are twin brothers. Sleep and Death: 
mine eyes alone may see 

"What their similitude portends to frail hu- 
manity. 



"Thy city, famed and beautiful, thou shalt be- 
hold no more ; 

"Through four and twenty centuries this slum- 
ber shall endure, 

"Till on a new, Hesperian shore thy wondering 
lids unseal'd 

"Swim with the radiance azure skies to lands 
yet nameless yield. 



[129] 



THE ATHENIAN'S VISION 

' ' A people, to whom the gifts of earth in ampler 
store shall fall 

^'Than fell in that far Golden Age the minstrel 
would recall. 

''Nor oil nor wine pour'd I of old so plentiful 
and sweet 

' ' As shall for the fair clime be pour 'd thy wak- 
ing eyes will greet. 



' ' Twixt serried hills and the blue waves a riband 
of rich green, 

" Border 'd with fruited gold; afar, the snow- 
lined summits' sheen 

"Gleams out, as from a spirit land; river with 
forest blends, 

"Where Ocean with his cooling breath Elysian 
tribute sends. 



"For them, those hallow 'd implements, Deme- 
ter's gift to man, 

' ' Simple erstwhile and plain, the rake, the plow, 
the winnowing-fan, 

"Sickle and pruning-hook, — the same, at my be- 
hest, shall change 

"Into new things of mighty mould and figura- 
tion strange. 



[130] 



THE ATHENIAN'S VISION 

'^So, when their teeming products, the gates 
o'erflowing, speed 

''Far forth, by land or watery way, ten-million 
mouths to feed; 

''When their white flocks, their kine adown ten- 
thousand pastures graze, 

"My name let them remember yet, let them 
cease not to raise 



"Songs of thanksgiving unto me, Demeter, 

mother of arts, 
"Parent of peace through all the years, whose 

bounty bends men's hearts, 
' ' By the upsp ringing of the seed, its leafage, and 

its bloom, 
"Toward thoughts eternal and high hopes of a 

new life to come." 



[131] 



THE ATHENIAN'S VISION 

Hail, then ; all hail ! ye people, whom now mine 

eyes behold. 
Even as mighty Pallas ' civic host they saw of old 
In Dionysus' theatre, h^igh-seated — hail! and 

wait 
For that the goddess ushers in, through her 

initiate. 



Lo! where the sacrificial throng with solemn 
step moves on, 

Born of the marble forms that graced the sculp- 
tured Parthenon. 

Link ye a past age to your own, join ye in one 
refrain 

Athena's green-gray olive and Demeter's yellow 
grain. 



[132] 



Greeting 



Xaipet' datixog Xeox;, 
ixtaQ fjjxevoi Aiog, 
jtaQ^evou qpiXag qpiAoig 

8l)q)QOVOijVT8g EV XQOVCJd. 

UdlXaboq 6' vjio KXSQolg 
ovrag a^etai jtaTr)Q. 



Greeting 

HIGH-THRONED, expectant, gracious 
throng. 
Rejoice ! be glad whilst ye behold 
What to your thoughts we would unfold 
And teach through solemn scene and song: 
Sweet Mercy bidding vengeance cease ; 
Mad flight and horror crown 'd with peace. — 

prayerful fugitive, faint not ! 

A mother's life-blood stains that sword: 
But with thy hand the Heavenly Word 
Guided its edge ; and through thee wrought, 
Thus to thy sire's requital bound, 
A vengeance awful and profound. 

Faint not ! Somewhere, solution true 

The deep ensanguined problem waits : 
No flout of harsh unpitying fates ; 
Though the insatiate hell-born crew. 
Waked by the phantom-mother pale, 
Even to Parnassus scent thy trail. 

Illustrious Athens! How that name 
Doth on my listening spirit fall 
Like a celestial trumpet-call 

Sounding no transient earthly fame. 

For what, that men to learning owe 

Or speed or skill or wealth can show, 
[135] 



GREETING 

Shall with such benison compare 

As in thy accents, Pallas, flow'd 
When their rich harmony bestow 'd 

On way-worn Oedipus a share 

Of hallow 'd soil to be his grave, 

And freedom to Orestes gave. 

Hark! 't is a gentler, holier tone 
Than even-handed justice dares 
To breathe where seated wisdom wears 

Pure-human symbols flung alone: 

''This vote my hand shall cast for thee; 

''So the tied ballot still sets free. 



"Nor shall the sable-shrouded band 

"Pass unappeased; but, minded well, I 

"Near my august tribunal dwell, •] 

"True-vengeful warders of the land: ! 

"From wrath and ravin to refrain j 

"And conjure blessing out of bane." — I 

i 

Rejoice ! and on your inmost hearts } ! 

Be the immortal story writ. jj 

For whoso hath been call'd to sit (: 

Where Pallas of her charm imparts, ;| 

And under its wing'd shelter sleeps, *' 

The Father of all mercies keeps. i 

[136] 



Symposium Metricum 



'Ev yiVQTOv xXabi to iicpog cpopriaco, 
&on£Q ^AQ\x6biog xai 'AQiatoyeiTCOv, 
6t8 tov TijQavvov yixavixr\v 
ioov6\xovg t' 'A'&r|vag eji;oiT]odTTiv. 



Symposium Metricum 

10, the lot and number mark 
J Me to be symposiarch. 
Of this banquet I am lord; 
Hear me and obey my word. 

Hear me, ye whose eye-light glows 
Under wreaths of bay and rose; 
Lips that curl at sound of mine, 
Moisten 'd by the god-sent vine. 

Clearest, sweetest chants the muse 
When the arm of Bacchus wooes, 
With ambrosial fingers prest 
To a yet diviner breast. 

Then the trembling passions start 
From the barriers of the heart; 
Then the thought leaps to the tongue, 
And the hope dies not unsung. 

Genius then flings out a beam 
From his bright, ecstatic dream; 
He whom fates have burthen 'd low 
Drops one fragment of his woe. 

[139] 



SYMPOSIUM METRICUM 

So be this Euterpe's hour. 

Own ye, friend to friend, her power; 

Till I last take up the strain. 

And we crown our cups again. 

Stiller! stiller — palm to brow. 
As I let the myrtle-bough 
Cross from hand to hand along, 
And from voice to voice the song. 



1140] 



SYMPOSIUM METRICUM 



WITH the bough methought a spark 
Thrill'd me, symposiarch, 
Of the soul that flashes yet 
In the measures thou hast set. 

Well the god deserves of youth, 
If he drives the blade of truth 
Through the sordid chains that bind 
Or the body or the mind. 



Freedom be to me the breath 
Of the life I owe to death. 
Freedom, won with groan and cheer 
In the tempest of the spear. 

Freedom's pledge of equal aims, 
Equal hopes, and equal names. 
Freedom's deep and deathless tone, 
Echoing round each despot's throne. 

Freedom, mixt with every thought 
Art or phantasy has wrought 
Into shapes which gave to see 
Signs of greater shapes to be. 

[141] 



SYMPOSIUM METRICUM 

Freedom, marching in the van 
Of the proud advance of man, 
All that peace and wisdom yield 
Mirror 'd in her burnish 'd shield. — 

Claims a free hand thus the right. 
Leafy symbol of delight, 
Thee thy tuneful way to send 
At the hilted weapon's end. 



[142] 



SYMPOSIUM METRICUM 



IS there aught in glittering steel 
Moves an awe-struck heart to feel 
"What the heights, the depths attained 
By the will of man unchain 'd? 

His all-reaching ken profound 
Air nor sea avails to bound; 
Cave nor wilderness, to rest 
Trackless of his cunning quest. 

From the wave he lifts the pearl, 
O'er whose hinged casket whirl 
Whelming eddies, through the dim 
Grottoes of the trident-king. 

Wide on billowy paths and far 
Flies for him the sail-wing 'd ear; 
Points him many a nameless strand, 
Sunset-realms of wonder-land. 

Earth her buried treasure-room 
Opes to him, and, from the gloom 
Of its niches dank and cold, 
Beams the tempting blush of gold. 

[143] 



SYMPOSIUM METRICUM 

In her vaults of marble-vein 
Delves his hand, to rear the fane — 
Saffron gleams of Eos lave 
Peristyle and architrave ! 

Now to evil, now to good 
Tends the soul, with fitful mood: 
Here, to dust low-fluttering — there. 
To fair ether soaring fair. 



[144] 



SYMPOSIUM METRICUM 



HAPPY they, whose acts fulfil 
Not some earthly mistress' will: 
Who but Wisdom's bidding hear, 
Her immortal anger fear. 

Them no longer, passion-rack 'd, 
Fickle-witted whims distract: 
Wisdom's nomes harmonious all 
From her silver plectrum fall. 

Me the piny wreath lures not, 
Over Isthmian courses sought; 
Not the loud Olympian meed, 
Earn'd by fiery-footed steed. 

Not the wrestler's firm renown 
Sways my fealty to a crown 
Wrung from pleasure, pride, and pelf 
In the struggle of myself. 

Stand not I to argue it 
Where the gaping many sit : 
Not with smooth, obsequious plea 
Wise to seem, but wise to be. 

[145] 



SYMPOSIUM METRICUM 

What the vain mob vaunts to know, 
Wisdom proves, with question slow. 
While the glib-tongued rhetor prates, 
Wisdom ponders, wisdom waits. 

While their factions rub and fret, 
While their empires rise and set. 
Wisdom fares her patient way 
With the torch that shines for aye. 



[146] 



SYMPOSIUM METRICUM 



BEST beyond a holier sphere 
Loves my charmed eye to peer 
Of the flight from age to age: 
Rose the minstrel ere the sage. 

Rose with sounding harp of praise, 
Strang to themes of ancient days, 
Deeds heroic to rehearse, 
Roll'd in torrent-mocking verse. 

Rose with lute, and faltering line 
Of a threnody divine, 
When new anguish, welling fast, 
Dimm'd his vision of the past. 

Rose with staid, majestic mien 
On the throng-beholden scene, 
There to teach what issues bide 
Blood-besprinkled ways of pride. 

All that drips from calm or care 
Poesy in chalice rare 
Pours, and blends the world of light 
With the mystic world of night. 

[147] 



SYMPOSIUM METRICUM 

Many a tranquil chord has rung 
Through the Dirge of Ilium; 
Many a paean, strong to save, 
Echoed from Cocytus' wave. 

When Death consecrates his own, 
Poesy, with votive stone, 
Still her gentle tribute brings, 
Still the muse of memory sings. 



[148] 



SYMPOSIUM METRICUM 



COMES to me the myrtle? Now 
Softly be enshrined the bough: 
Now Love's hymn let me attune, 
Whom Love's emblem brings the boon. 

Sweet may ring your gleeful rhyme, 
High the chant of freedom chime. 
But the songs that pierce the graves 
Are the songs of Eros' slaves. 

In their words a crisping flame, 
In their tones a winsome shame, 
In their cadences a sigh 
As of leaves whose fall is nigh. 

Dire, invincible the works 
Of the potent god who lurks 
By rude fold, or gilded hall, 
On his hapless prey to fall; 

Sudden-vengeful ire who wreaks 
From his lair of virgin cheeks. 
Haunts the curve of comely limbs, 
'Neath the misty eyelid swims. 



[149] 



SYMPOSIUM METRICUM 

Swift, his supplicants to spurn 
Whilst at altar's marge they bum 
Incense of regretful years, 
With a litany of tears. 

Eros' branch has done the round: 
See! — to Eros' statue bound, 
Droops its green — the while we hark 
To thy lay, symposiarch. 



[150 



SYMPOSIUM MBTRICUM 



HELLAS, Hellas, lo ! I bring 
Thee the lay I rise to sing. 
Gods and heroes, lend my voice 
Numbers worthy of the choice. 

Hellas, first in name of thee 
Brave men swore they would be free. 
First, then, in thy cup be pour'd 
Crimson glories of the sword. 

In thy praise resounded high 
Music, born of sea and sky : 
Wreathe I, so, this rim along 
Flowers of never-dying song. 

Of the nations, Hellas, thine 
Beauty chose, to hold her shrine: 
Here in ruby waves I trace 
Memories of the fairest face. 

Pledge me now the triple-crown 'd. 
If of love ye know the sound; 
If the trumpet, if the lyre 
Sets the heart of youth on fire. 

[151] 



SYMPOSIUM METRICUM 

Drink to Hellas, as she stands; 
Hellas, Hellas, land of lands: 
Drink to art and eloquence, 
All that speaks to mind or sense ; 

Drink to words of law and right, 
Drink to liberty and light. 
Drink to beauty, drink to fame. 
Drink to an immortal name. 



The End 



[152] 



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